An Unlikely Love Story : A sweet, heartwarming & uplifting romantic comedy (Falling into Happily Ever After Rom Com)

by Ellie Hall

  1 stick unsalted butter, softened

  1/4 cup cream cheese (softened avoid fat-free, light, or whipped cream cheese)

  3/4 cup light brown sugar

  1/4 cup granulated sugar

  1 large egg

  2 teaspoons vanilla extract

  2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

  2 teaspoons cornstarch

  1 teaspoon baking soda

  1/4 teaspoon salt

  1 package dark chocolate chips and/or chunks

  A sprinkle of flaked sea salt for finishing

  Method:

  1. Combine the butter, cream cheese, brown sugar, granulated sugar, egg, and vanilla. Beat on medium-high speed or mix by hand until light and fluffy. Be sure to scrape down the sides of the bowl to get it all mixed.

  2. In a separate bowl, combine flour, cornstarch, baking soda, and salt.

  3. Mix wet and dry ingredients together and then add the chocolate chips.

  4. Scoop dough into generous tablespoon-sized balls and sprinkle with flaked sea salt. Place on cookie sheet lined with parchment paper and refrigerate for at least 2 hours or overnight before baking. Maxwell will assure you that this step is crucial!

  5. Preheat oven to 350F. Bake for 8 minutes, or until edges have set and tops are pale and glossy. Don’t bake longer than 10 minutes as cookies will firm up as they cool. Allow cookies to cool.

  Eat and fall in love!

  More Reading

  Don’t miss An Unexpected Love Story, book one in the Falling into Happily Ever series.

  If you’ve already read it, check out book 3 in the series.

  An Accidental Love Story

  Girl walks into clinic to donate blood. Girl passes out. Guy comes to her rescue. Guy happens to be Cutie McCutestuff and has a medical degree.

  To say I’m accident prone is an understatement. More like unlucky in life, love, and Labradors—and I have the scar to prove it. In fact, my coworkers call me Luckless-Lottie.

  Dr. Russel Koenig is out of my league, off-limits. Not an option. End of story.

  Only, through a cruel twist of my bad luck, the good (looking) doctor purchases his ailing grandmother a dog—the kind my parents breed. They want me to work as the liaison even though I limped away from the family business long ago.

  When Russel’s Oma mistakes me for his girlfriend, he doesn’t correct her. Maybe my luck has changed. Our first kiss certainly doesn’t seem like CPR practice.

  Is my latest accident the beginning of a new chapter, prompting me to step out of my comfort zone and pushing me right to the edge of what I thought I was capable of, or will rotten luck reign, leaving me forever lonely?

  If you need more laughter and happily ever afters, read an excerpt from To Swoon or Not to Swoon Over the Billionaire where jocks become gentlemen, women get treated like royalty, and all the sass and spark in between.

  Chapter 1: Maggie

  Maggie closed her eyes and imagined a quaint town at the foot of a mountain landscape. She pictured snow, the Atlantic Ocean, a vat of ice...anything to cool her off as she posed for literally the hundredth photo that day.

  “Your cheeks are so rosy,” a woman said.

  She didn’t want to think about what her makeup looked like but hoped she didn’t resemble a wax figure. “Apparently, not even a princess is exempt from the effects of the Florida humidity,” Maggie muttered while plastering on a bright smile.

  The camera snapped and then she flitted over to the next family waiting for their photo opportunity. She tried subtly to coax people into the shade, but the cameraman kept drawing her into the sun.

  “You’re in the shadow,” he barked when she edged closer to an awning over a kiosk.

  She moved to the left.

  “That made it worse,” he said, forcing her and the kids waiting in line to remain under the blazing sun.

  “What’s it like being married to Prince Charming?” a little girl asked when it was her turn.

  Maggie’s smile felt like it was going to melt off her face, but her job as Cinderella was to keep it firmly in place. “It’s more wonderful than I ever imagined,” she said in her best imitation of the princess.

  The answer seemed to suffice. Either that or the girl’s mother didn’t want her daughter to get any wild ideas about anyone riding in on a steed and sweeping her off her feet. The truth was, Maggie wasn’t married to Prince Charming or anyone for that matter. She didn’t expect anyone to swoop in and come to her rescue—not that she needed rescue, maybe except from the heat.

  A father who’d sweated through his T-shirt and two kids—a girl and a boy—were in line next. They both peppered her with questions about what it was like behind the scenes, working at one of the most famous theme parks on earth. She wasn’t at liberty to say, after all, she was in character. Instead, she improvised and turned the convo around—asking them how they were enjoying their visit.

  The questions from the children didn’t stop though.

  On second thought, she could use Prince Charming to bail her out right then. Hopefully, the kids would tire or—?

  “The line for the rollercoaster is only twenty minutes. Let’s go,” the boy said, glancing at a notification on his phone.

  The family hurried away.

  “Yeah, let’s go,” said the cameraman taking photos.

  He was new, barely out of high school, and hated his job at the happiest place on earth. Maggie didn’t use the word hate lightly, but every chance he got, he’d sneak off, ditching his shift. He broke employee rules all the time as well. She’d reported him, but somehow, he’d managed to stick around and had figured out she’d been the one to let their boss know that he wasn’t adhering to employee rules. This earned her an enemy instead of an ally.

  Maggie glided toward a shady spot. It was near a fountain, which she had to be careful of because of her costume, but she could hardly tolerate another moment in the heat. Though she knew she shouldn’t complain. At least she didn’t have to wear a full costume with a character head. Being naturally fair-skinned, she had to wear heaps of sunblock, which wasn’t great either.

  A couple of boys tossed coins in the fountain. She hesitated, worried about them splashing her, but it was somewhat cooler the closer she got to the water—like the park guest heat relief stations but without the cooling mist.

  She posed for another photo with a little girl dressed in an identical, though much smaller, version of her blue dress. She also wore a blond wig, which Maggie knew from personal experience was awful in the heat. But the little girl was dedicated.

  Maggie learned that her name was Tiffany, and she’d recently finished treatment for cancer. She’d always dreamed of meeting Cinderella. The mom had tears in her eyes, probably at helping to make her daughter’s wish come true. They chatted for a moment, and then the little girl waved goodbye.

  Maggie drew her arms together, her hands balled up under her chin. It was moments like that which made her love her job. Her character could bring so much joy to a person’s life.

  She sighed, watching the pair walk away when a hand landed on her waist. “Hello there, Cindy-rella.” A man with greasy hair and alcohol-scented breath wheezed in her direction.

  Her stomach flip-flopped and her body chilled. “Hands off,” she said.

  “Oh, come on. Can’t I get a photo too? I’ve been a good boy,” the man said. “Can I sit on your lap?”

  Maggie eyed the cameraman-kid. They were a team, and if a park visitor acted inappropriately, he was supposed to step in and notify security.

  He just stood there on his phone looking bored or amused, she couldn’t tell.

  The man’s hand gravitated upward. “So pretty.”

  She screwed up her face with anger. “I’m not Santa Claus and you clearly have not been a good boy,” she said, breaking character. “Get your hands off of me.”

  The man ignored her and moved closer.

  As she stepped back to move away, her shoe caught on the inside hem of her dress.
Her arms wind-milled and although it was the last thing she wanted to do, she reached for the guy’s shirt to keep from falling. But it was too late. She toppled backward into the fountain.

  Splash.

  The man landed partway on top of her as though they’d been embracing. The camera flash went off, capturing the unfortunate moment.

  Maggie’s surroundings seemed to shift into slow motion as she struggled in the shallow water. All she could hear was a hum in her ears. Her gown was tangled and her wig had dipped over her eyes. It was bad enough the cameraman-kid had taken a photo, but she was sure bystanders were filming with their cell phones.

  What likely had been silent shock, all at once, turned into titters, which became full-blown laughter that came at her full volume. The world sped up again.

  “No,” she moaned, shoving the guy off her and trying to get up. But her sodden dress weighed her down. She tore her wig off so she could see. Sure enough, people were taking pictures with their mobile phones.

  The guy leered from her to the cameras as though he could see the taglines on the video that was sure to go viral—Cindy-rella and Prince Charming make a splash. No, he wasn’t Prince Charming. He was awful, despicable, and she had to get away from him and the situation.

  Maggie managed to get to her feet.

  “That’s one way to cool off,” the kid with the camera said.

  “With no thanks to you,” she retorted, shoving through the crowd.

  She hardly remembered walking through the gathered park visitors, but she feared she’d never forget the burn of humiliation as she entered the cast dressing room. The sight of her standing in front of the mirror, dripping wet and mortified, made her want to crawl into a hole. Her hair had escaped the hairnet from the wig, her eye makeup was horrifying as it dripped down her cheeks, and her dress was completely ruined—that would come out of her paycheck.

  There was only one solution. Quit.

  She exhaled and got changed into regular clothes.

  Chatter came from down the long hallway—her fellow castmates returning for a shift rotation. Likely, they’d heard what had happened. She gathered everything from her locker, stuffed it in her bag, and hurried out through an exit on the other end of the room, avoiding the princesses and characters who could keep it together and not make fools of themselves.

  They’d never know she was there. They’d never know she’d left. Maggie had learned to blend in and for once, she was relieved.

  Down the hall, she knocked lightly on the cast manager’s door, but there was no answer. While she rode an employee golf cart to the bus stop, she typed a letter of resignation to her boss in an email. There was no way she could go back.

  As she made her way to the small apartment she rented, she couldn’t ignore the nearly ever-present feeling of failure, but it had grown as the minutes passed—never mind that it had been growing for years.

  Once back in her rental, she took out a box of cake mix and started combining in the ingredients. When she opened the fridge, she realized she was out of eggs. Figured. She popped the batter in the pan anyway.

  She’d been living in the space for about twelve months and had hardly unpacked. Not that she had much. Over the years, Maggie had moved a lot, and each time gave away or discarded more of her possessions. After her last move, she was able to get everything she owned into a regular-sized car. The futon mattress that she kept on the floor was a tight squeeze, but she’d managed.

  When her friend Haleigh had seen what little she possessed, she’d worn a look of concern, as if to say it’s like you want to disappear.

  Had she been able to be completely honest and say the truth out loud, it would have been it’s easier to disappear on my terms then try to be seen and ignored.

  Instead, Haleigh had told her that they needed to go shopping—it was her favorite pastime, but after Maggie’s savings had been wiped out not too long before they’d met. She scrimped as best she could.

  Maggie fought against the pain of her childhood and looked around the place she could hardly call home. A sigh escaped. “I’m a grown woman, educated, talented, but I’m living in this tiny space with about a dozen palmetto bugs—” She stifled a sob and held her head in her hands. Wisps of her strawberry blond hair had fallen out of her ponytail and tickled her face. She blew them away as the oven dinged.

  After letting the cake cool and slathering frosting on the cake, she took it and then padded down the hall. The day she’d moved in she’d made friends with Haleigh who also lived in the building. She worked at a local theme park too but had a side hustle, selling hand-lettered prints of Psalms online.

  Haleigh opened the door before Maggie even had a chance to knock. “I thought I smelled cake.”

  Maggie put the pan in Haleigh’s hands and went inside.

  “Uh, oh. I’m guessing it’s not official cupcake day.”

  Maggie was big on celebrating official days of all sorts—from pizza, doughnut, dog day to kazoo day.

  “Something happened. I can tell by the lack of lift in your sponge cake that it isn’t good.” Haleigh wrinkled her nose.

  Maggie only baked when she had something to celebrate or when she was depressed.

  Haleigh closed the door and got out two forks before setting the cake on the coffee table between them. She passed Maggie a fork who helped herself to a bite of the cake, right from the pan.

  Haleigh followed suit.

  “I was just saying to myself, ‘I’m a grown woman, educated, talented, but I’m living in this tiny space with about a dozen palmetto bugs...’”

  “Maybe the problem is that you were talking to yourself,” Haleigh said with a gentle but joking smile. “Also, I have this natural palmetto bug deterrent I’ve been trying.”

  “Does it work?”

  Haleigh shrugged.

  Maggie took another bite of cake. “You know me. I give my all. I poured everything into my job and—”

  “And you got fired?”

  “No, I resigned.”

  Maggie told her the entire story while they nibbled on the cake.

  Just as Haleigh started to offer words of encouragement, her roommate, Nadia, breezed in. “Ooh, cake,” she said, helping herself to a bite, using Haleigh’s fork. “The craziest thing happened,” she said around a mouthful. She then went on to tell an outrageous story about meeting a football player from the Miami Riptide who’d taken her to dinner on his yacht.

  “I thought you had to work?” Haleigh asked. She was completely immune to Nadia’s magically sensational life. The girl always seemed to find herself in the right place at the right time.

  “We met at table number nine,” Nadia said, practically swooning.

  The thing was, Nadia always swooned but the relationships never lasted.

  Haleigh rolled her eyes so only Maggie noticed. They’d talked about Nadia’s exploits and Haleigh knew how Maggie felt about the rich and famous.

  “You quit your job?” Haleigh asked. “Maggie did too.”

  “I didn’t quit, I resigned,” she corrected because she couldn’t stomach the idea of being a quitter and repeatedly failing.

  Nadia shook her head. “I didn’t quit either. I have a shift tonight.”

  “You weren’t fired for taking off with a football player?”

  “No, my boss is a Riptide super fan. I got a bunch of merch and he understood.” Nadia shrugged. “Said he would’ve done the same thing.” She laughed.

  “She has the best luck,” Haleigh muttered then gave Nadia a recap of what had happened to Cinderella at the fountain—who had the worst luck.

  Nadia nodded as though she’d seen the footage on the internet. “I’m sorry that happened. But if you need a job, my cousin is hiring.”

  Knowing Nadia, it was probably something wacky—lion tamer, rare stamp collector, door-to-door dog food salesperson. As she went on to describe the finishing school, it actually didn’t sound half bad.

  “You were a princess. Of course, you
can teach classes at a finishing school,” Haleigh said.

  Maggie bit her lip. She wasn’t entirely sure, but the rent was due and given Nadia seemed to stumble across opportunities and windfalls she wouldn’t turn it down. “If I’m going to keep a roof over my head, I better apply.”

  Nadia held up her finger. “There’s just one thing.”

  Maggie and Haleigh leaned in.

  “It’s in Concordia.”

  The two women turned to each other.

  “Where is that?” Haleigh asked.

  “I have family there. Well, my cousin. Actually, she’s from Russia, like my parents. Though they met in Concordia. It was the most romantic thing...” She went on to tell the story and then circled back. “They hooked Kat up with the position at Blancbourg Academy d’Etiquette of Concordia since they have some connection and the former headmistress retired, but they live in Greece now.” Like all of Nadia’s stories, there were a lot of glamorous details.

  “Do they speak English?” Maggie asked, fearing the opportunity was over before it began.

  “Of course. They have their own dialect, but it’s English—the country is north of the UK.”

  Nadia was the kind of person you’d think was a liar because she lived in the crappy apartment and worked at a restaurant, and traipsed through life, collecting famous friends, stories of wild adventures, and so many boyfriends she’d lost count. But she was rich and a former Russian pop star who’d left that life for one of relative anonymity. She didn’t have to work another day in her life but did because she loved people. Just not ones who mobbed her, asked for her to sign things, and followed her everywhere. She’d once said she just wanted to be normal. Maggie understood her aversion to the spotlight.

  “So it’s overseas?” Maggie asked, uncertain.

  Nadia pulled out her phone, tapped a few times, and then showed them the map.

  Concordia was a remote island north of England.

  “You’re suggesting I move abroad? I can’t. Money for one.”